Problematic
by SnowStormSkies
Summary: Number Four. Arrogant, abusive and annoying and though he doesn’t know it, sexually submissive. Number One. Masterful, brilliant, intelligent and he knows that he’s sexually dominant. Number Four is in for a big surprise when he fouls up.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Problematic-o

**Author:** SnowStormSkies

**Universe: **Codename: Kids Next Door

**Theme/Topic:** Errmmm, the after math of a mission that went badly awry and Numbers Four and One

**Rating:** Adult. Language, content, theme/topic rating, just to be on the safe side. It's only for those...over the age of sixteen I suppose (Eighteen in the USA). Really....

**Characters:** Numbers One through to Five, with cameo appearances from other Numbers and a few OCs. Just to warn you. No Mary Sues, or Gary Stu's though. Just OOCness and a few unlikely situations.

**Warnings/Spoilers: **Abuse, Anal, Angst, AU/AR, BDSM, Bi, B-Modification, Bondage, Cock and Ball Torture, D/s, F/M/M, Humiliation, Language, M/F/F, M/M/M, M/m, Mpreg, N/C, Oral sex, Peg, PWP, Racist, Rimming, S&M, Sexual Harassment, SoloM, Spanking, Torture, Toys, Transvesites, UST, Violence, Voyuerism, WAFFy, Wet Dreams, Work in Progress~

**Word Count:** 2,785 words (and that's just the first chapter!)

**Time:** Errm... Errm...Started back in about early 2007 and then lugged it around through three computers and forgot about it until now...Spent about three days writing more and sprucing it up...

**Summary: **Number Four. Arrogant, abusive and annoying and though he doesn't know it, sexually submissive. Number One. Masterful, brilliant, intelligent and he knows that he's sexually dominant. Number Four is in for a big surprise when he fucks up.

**Dedication: **Someone....who cares....-has no idea who or what inspired this- .

**A/N: **Again no idea what plot bunny grew this monstrosity; like most of my fics it just happens. And I have no control whatsoever. You'd think as the author I'd know that kind of stuff...But I don't...Ermm...Again, it's going to be a backburner story, just there for my amusement and when I can't think of BSP.

**Distribution:** Warn me please but then you'll be free to take. Just a word of warning; please don't try and pass it off for your own work. It's unfair and it's not going to help you or me. I don't mind if you stick on the moon if you credit me somewhere even if it's really small at the end. Rant over...For now.

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**Chapter One**

**~A Beginning to a Tale of Tales~**

~*~

KND – Kids Next Door is an elite crack international team, numbering in the thousands around the world, fighting against the tyranny of the adults and grown-ups. The only thing is…most of the world is unaware of their valiant heroics. Our story is concerned about a specific group of these specialised Agents; code named Number One, Number Two, Number Three, Number Four and Number Five who together stand over Sector Five, in San Francisco.

They were recruited all around the age of five, and by the time they were ten they had the best record for captured and nullified enemies in the entire organisation. When asked their secret, the only answer any operative would get is… "Just because…"

By six years old, they were heading the leader board on the individual missions and were the youngest agents to be in charge of a sector. At eight they were the stuff of urban tales, telling of their incredible power and prowess in the battles between kid and adult. At ten they were heading up the leader board of Sector Success, had more than a hundred missions under their combined belts and were one of the most developed teams and technological units in the world. But by the time they were twelve, and just eight weeks from being decommissioned, they achieved the level of Legendary by pulling off a stunning coop that landed eighty-nine villains, four hundred and seven henchmen and women, and eight thousand objects of questionable or dangerous original in the lock-ups. They were the stuff of myths and legends, but it was too late to have them back again.

As a final gift to them, the Supreme Leader of the KND allowed them graciously to be decommissioned together, rather than having to have the team fragment and pull apart over time. Number Five was the oldest agent to be decommissioned, having been nearly fourteen at her last mission, whereas Number Four was the youngest ever to be decommissioned for formal reasons (i.e. not due to betrayal or medical reasons) only twelve and three months old. His decision though, not to accept the offer from the Supreme Commander to have his own team from the age of twelve and to lead them to greatness was remarkable. The loyalty in that team was incomprehensible to everyone out side of them, but they didn't mind. They got it even if no-one else did.

The KND (Kids Next Door) team had been decommissioned from the KND enterprise but had been recommissioned into the TOTR or the Teenagers Over The Road, pronounced Totter , presiding over their old patch of Sector Five. At fifteen the five of them had been commended by the Elite Commanders of TOTR for their elitism and dedication. An award ceremony had been held, each of them receiving flashy golden medals in a ceremonial box. As soon as they arrived home, they had unanimously thrown the medals into the back of a storage cupboard, stripped off the ties and high heels and collapsed in front of the television, devoting their evening to pizza and Alien Versus Predator.

After that ceremony though, they went up the mission ranking and were given the priority missions. Suddenly, they were entrusted to do aboard missions, to deal with specialist equipment and highly sensitive information that could overbalance the world's political minefield. No longer were the missions brief and simple; now they could last up to eight weeks, require the co-ordination sometimes up to two hundred members and even have a BLACK OPS classification – i.e. people could die on these missions.

Now they were a part of an organisation that no longer dealt with lame ideals and played tag to decide on a new leader. Now things were done democratically, there was a board of Executive and Senior members who decided on the missions to be done. Not much was known about that particular board, but it was rumoured that it was made of up of operatives of the TOTR who had been so badly injured in the line of duty that they were restricted to permanent office work, in the Lunar Station. Now things were done to completion, with reports and filing and updates and news being passed around and proper levels of clearance and everything.

And each member had their own sector team to worry about – all from other sectors reporting back to their leaders in Sector Five. Number Two for example commanded a crack team of tech whizzes and Number Three surprisingly enough took a bunch of the youngest linguists in the biz under her wing, and actually did a damn fine job of it. Number Four had a small team of fighters he was training to follow his footsteps, and already they were reaching the black belt range though none of them were working out to his exact specification. His pickiness over fighting was legendary and his harsh comments had sent more than one agent screaming and crying from the room. Number Five kept just two or two street smart younger members around her for reasons known only to herself. And Number One...well he gave lectures and that was it. In his words, he had no time to be "dealing with people he didn't need to nor want to talk to". Harsh but true. The people in the teams under the tutelage or instruction of Sector Five mostly did their work from their own bases, meeting perhaps once or twice a month with the Sector Five operatives. That meant that they had yet more reports to do; some for the high ups, some for the low downs, some for fellow Sector Commanders and some for bureaucratically based reasons. Minimum eighteen thousand ones some of them.

Each one of the Sector Five Agents had responded differently to being decommissioned and then recommissioned for a new unit.

Number One had responded in a very British way. When he awoke in the medical bay of the TOTR Lunar Base, right after having his memories re-engaged, he had asked for his team, an explanation, a pair of pyjamas and a cup of tea. In that order. Now at sixteen, he was no longer a short, bald and slightly dorky looking kid. He was a handsome, six foot tall, well muscled kid with a thick, full head of black hair, who wore a long sleeved red shirt in the winter, and a short sleeved one in the summer, with either combat cut off shorts, or grey jeans. His ever present combat boots didn't change during the winter, only to be replaced with red, white and blue trainers in the summer. His light grey blue eyes were still hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, though these sunglasses were mirrored and were also a projection screen linked to his computer, enabling him to operate the computer from in the field. Nigel Uno was still completely "Anal Retentive" according to Number Four but he had mellowed some over the last few years. He didn't go out with Lizzie any more, having dumped her aged fifteen due to her lack of…intelligence though he was too polite to say so and instead called it " a lack of awareness of others, self and surroundings."

Number Two had thrown himself into his machines and inventions, his weight falling off of him. He wasn't a little lad by any means but he no longer had the rolls of fat he used to. Now he was a sleeker, more refined version of himself with a perchance for sweet teenaged girls with glasses and an interest in mechanics. He had picked up one of them when he was fourteen and she was thirteen and they were still going strong nearly three years later. He still had his flight cap, but had upgraded it to a sleek leather black version, with badges of various types littered across it. His once dorky flight goggles were now a vintage collectors item, and drew the girls to him by the tens, though his shaggy brown hair and brilliant blue eyes didn't harm his chances either. Considering Hoagie Gillian wasn't the most social guy it was a remarkable achievable. Ditching the high waisted brown trousers with high done turn-ups and the too tight blue shirt, for low slung dark brown or stone jeans and a good many looser shirts in varying shades of blue had been for the better, his oversized trainers being switched for loafers. He looked and sounded, and dare they say it...appeared in every way so much better.

Number Three...well in some ways she had grown up and in others she hadn't. Upon being recommissioned she had fallen into an eight day funk, the cause of which was the honest to God fact that she realised she was growing up and so was her team. On the ninth day, she had made pancakes for the whole sector five team and then forgot all about the funking out. Classic Kuki Sanban operating procedure. Instead of moping and reminding herself of their increasing age, she had thrown herself into the world of cheerleading and into sporting and indeed enough had found herself with more than enough admirers. She didn't go out with them though, choosing to remain at home with the rest of Sector Five...but at least she wasn't short of people to ask her to prom or whatever. Now that she was sixteen nearly seventeen, she was still hung up on the idea of rainbow monkeys and she still slept with about sixty in her bed...Number Five thought she'd be taking those damn monkeys on her honeymoon, and on her wedding night, as well if she had her way. She still wore green though now in every combination of mini-shirts, jumpers, blouses, trousers and shorts...it was beyond unenviable that she could do that...any other girl ended up looking like the veg stand at the supermarket. Though she still didn't use her hands that often for anything like normal people – like cooking, eating, and picking stuff up... She still had a crush on Number Four but it had faded more in recent months and she was becoming less...awkward around him much to the boy's obvious relief. Her height was still quite small though, only just pushing five five much to her disgust, but her long black hair had been neatened into a pixie bob and her vivid brown eyes had turned almond shaped, revealing her Japanese heritage.

Number Five had matured, both physically, mentally and emotionally. Her short tunic dress in blue and white buckled shoes had been replaced by black and white semi-platform shoes and a slightly more decent mid-thigh length tunic dress in blue. Her red hat though was the same. She refused to give that up~ It was Abbie Lincoln's Trademark and that was, in her books at least, enough to warrant its continued presence upon her head. Her long brown hair had been cut to mid shoulder, and micro braided, with colourful beads on the ends, holding true to her African heritage, though the feathers and tassels spoke of her Native American Indian heritage. Despite her informal dress sense, her mind was sharper than ever, the sass in her voice now tempered with the wiseness of a veteran in the field and the coyness of a person who knew exactly what they wanted and weren't too fussy about sticking it to you. She was still sassy though to everyone, even the big people at the top of the food chain but in light of her service to the force they let her get away with it. Her romance life had been quite rare, her two boyfriends had been a casual affair and they had split both times amicably. Never the less, she was a firm friend and no slouch in the looks department; her high cheekbones were the envy of most of the town, her figure hard won through hours of intensive training with Number Four and her clothes the result of the many hours she spent shopping with Kuki and her skin carefully maintained. There was no denying it, Abby Lincoln was definitively beautiful and seriously dangerous...

Number Four had changed as well, from his looks to his brains. His height now topped five eight, but he was still due in for at least another growth spurt. Despite his height, he was very slender, almost to the point of girl-ish, his inability to show muscle mass even though he had it was a constant annoyance to him. His blue jeans and orange hoodie hadn't changed in years, and his white trainers hadn't either. He just maintained that he could find what he needed when that was pretty much all he had. He had taken to wearing a little beaded necklace, white and black around his neck, and another around his wrist. Nobody knew why he wore them or indeed where they came from or even who gave them to him. It was just one of his many mysteries. On the occasions the team went to the beach, he wore a beaded anklet as well. It seemed he was quite the surfer boy. Wallabee Beatles also had surprised everyone; in that he had learnt to swim, far better than anyone ever expected and he took up surfing for a past time. His hair was shaggy still, though now it wasn't the lame-ass pudding bowl cut he'd had all the way through childhood but the far more awesome hair style that, according to Number Five was "hott sexy, like he's just had hott smexy sex and he t'ain't bothered wit' hidin' it." No-one pretended to understand half of what she said but they all agreed on that. With his deep emerald green eyes and smoking hot body, when Number Four stared at you in the right kind of way, you could feel the smouldering of his eyes, and see the flames rising up in him and many people often had quite embarrassing reactions to the stare; namely the staring back, the drooling and the popping up of mini-people in the lower department. It was to be short, HOTT and AWESOME. For all his down right attractiveness, Wally, or Lee as he now preferred was still more interested in fighting and doing what he wanted than dating girls but he had come out when he was fourteen, telling his friends that he was bisexual. He liked boys and girls, but only had had female relationships so far. Four of them to be precise, the longest being three months long, the shortest being exactly eleven minutes. No-one quite knew how that last one had ended up being so badly wrong...Number Five maintained it was a blow-job gone wrong but Lee just shot her down in flames.

Now, they were looked up to by most of the organisation, praised as examples of the paragons of Greatness and were even immortalised in the KND and TOTR and AOTB (Adults On The Block) Halls of Fame and Glory. They had retained the privilege all the way up through the years, right up there on the leader board consistently in the top ten teams worldwide, right into their last few years of high school, and now that they were all sixteen approaching seventeen, apart from one, they were given the most complex, the most difficult and the most dangerous missions.

No longer did they deal with dead end villain like Count Spankalot, or the Toilenator…Now they had serious villains that liked to set bombs rigged to children's fairground rides or criminals who stole weapons grade uranium to sell to illegal arms dealers to make nuclear bombs designed to blow up a continent or four…It was a far cry from their old life of fighting against the grown-ups. Now they dealt with evil little bastards for whom world domination wasn't achieved by mass flushing of kids but machine guns, armed guards, deadly diseases that could wipe out half the world's population in a week and with villain-esses who thought to take over the world in revenge for spurned love.

The last mission had been simple in comparison to half the missions they went on these days. Using the patented L.O.C.K. B.R.E.A.K.E.R _(LOCK OPENER/CRACKER KIT – BIG RESONANT ECHO ACHIEVED KRACKING EVERY ROOM)_ they were to break into a manor house belonging to a major international villain, gain access to his computer, download the contents, retrieve the missing Diamonds of the Countess Milson (worth an estimated 22.3 million dollars) and leave. Preferably without the villain noticing that his house was being broken into. Easy and quick, the mission statement had said they would be no more than an hour, in and out.

….Unfortunately for them…the last mission had not gone well…

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**Hey, just be doing my little cross-posting for the week~**

**Next chapter is coming as soon as I can find it on my incredibly disorganised computer, so yeah. About five hours. **

**Review please, in the meantime! **

**Love ya all~**

**_SSS~_  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**And here's the next chapter - dedicated to the one reviewee Star Twilight Akazura Hedgehog who is much of the awesome, as they say. **

**Read on, my friends!**

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**Chapter Two:**

**The Situation and the Fallout**

**~~**~~  
**

Unfortunately for them…the last mission had not gone well…

Number One was angry. Definitely angry. On a scale of one to ten he was probably hitting the thirty four mark. Number Five fidgeted where she sat with her rather singed hat, fingering the various burn marks, rips and tears in her blue tunic dress. Number Two adjusted what remained of his flight cap, his shirt and blazer in tatters and still smoking in patches. He sat next to Number Five, his hands fidgeting like hers. Brown hair flopping in front of his eyes, Hoagie looked half his age, with an expression of extreme repentance on his face. Five and Two had both been within about seventy metres of the blast radius, getting small fires, large boulders and pieces of masonry thrown at them at thirty to seventy miles per hour. Hence the appalling state of their uniforms.

Number One had been co-ordinating back at the temporary base, running the communication lines. Hence why he was still clean and undamaged.

Number Three shifted in her seat, her dress only minorly damaged. Her insistence on wearing the new body armour had paid off and she had been the furthest from the blast radius, catching essentially hot air, small rocks and splinters. She had tried to entice Number Five into a discussion about some new soap on the TV and then some Rainbow Monkeys but she had been quelled quickly by Number One, who had glared her into submissive silence.

Number Four…Number Four was standing between Kuki's and Number Five's chairs, more forward than them by half a pace. In front of One's desk, he stood with his head down, his blond hair dirty with ash and dust, his hands folded behind his back, knuckles white due to his clenching of his hands. His blue jeans were literally rags hanging off his waist, his black boxers visible, holed and burned from the petroleum seeping through the remains of his jeans. His vivid orange hoodie or what remained of it was placed on the desk, the few shreds he could salvage anyway. His black t-shirt hung from one shoulder, the rest just hanging in strips, fluttering in the breeze from the fan in the corner, the smell of burning flesh still ripe around him. His chest was heavily burnt on one side; the white skin marred by dark reddish brown singed skin around a more serious burn which had been hastily covered with a field bandage before he had been flown home; more bandages littered his body, including over one eye. All field medical measures, administered by Number Three on the plane home. He didn't move.

"So…" Number One's rather menacing tones echoed around his study. He was sat behind his desk, his hands neatly folded, his eyes secured behind his sunglasses. _"So..."_ His expression could have killed them stone cold dead.

"Umm..." Number Two's rather lame attempt to say something was ignored by Number One.

"So. A simple mission. One which we should have been able to accomplish for certain, given our skills and experience. The mission statement was rather specific in that respect I believe. Oh yes... ", Number One picked up the sheet of paper containing their mission detail. He read out the mission statement. _"Agents are to gain entry to Pierre De Luc's manor home, located in the South of France, using the minimal amount of force. Agents will gain entry to the property, locate the main computer of the house and using the HACKER AND CRACKER device, they will download the entire hard drive. Agents will investigate any other computer equipment they find, and where possible download the contents using the HACKER AND CRACKER device. Agents will also investigate the possibility of suspected armouries, and the garages for possible weapons and vehicles to aid subsequent investigations/operations. Agents will also find and retrieve the Milson Diamonds and retain them for delivery to TOTR officials..." _Now where is it...oh yes, "_They will NOT be noticed, they will NOT leave any traces behind and they will NOT cause any damage to the property. They WILL retrieve the information..." _I think you get the picture, don't you?"

"Yes, Number One." The four of them chorused. It was rare that the boy in front of them hauled them up like this, but then again, they _had_ failed miserably.

"Is it a simple mission in comparison to say...The Paris Suicide Bombers of '07?"

"Yes, Number One?"

"Is it a harder mission than the Amazonia Jungle Illegal Smuggling Crackdowns?"

"No, Number One."

"Is it...more complicated that the eighteen week O Fastinu Mission in Rome?"

"No, Number One."

"So why pray tell, did you fail so badly on this mission, this apparently easy mission?" Number One's voice was deceptively calm. "Pray explain to me how my operatives ended up almost being killed in the line of duty, due to their own stupidity and why is the house that was to remain almost untouched now reduced to a pile of rubble and a big hole in the ground?"

"It was...my fault, Number One." Number Four's voice was hesitant and low, but determined.

"Your fault, Number Four? Perhaps you'd like to tell me how it was so..."

"I didn't tell everyone about the bomb until it was too late-"

"Why?"

"Because...I thought...I could...handle..."

"You thought you could handle it? Is that right?"

"Yeah. I've done bombs before-"

"And did it never occur to you, that the man whose house you were going into, makes bombs for a living. That he has more than forty years in the making of bombs and you have exactly four?!"

"I thought-"

"You did not think. You just did." Number One's hands slammed down on the desk as he stood up. "You thought you would collect a few more respect points and make yourself a hero, because you wouldn't call it a day when you discovered it! You didn't radio it back to anyone, you just carried blithely on! You had no comprehension of the possible triggers and traps that that man could have put into that bomb! Forty three bars of plastic explosive in that one area alone, and another eight hundred scattered around the house, and you didn't think to radio it back in! You could have killed someone!"

Number Four said nothing, his head bowed. He knew full well what he had done.

"However...The blame does not solely rest on your shoulders." He glanced at Number Three. "The bomb was triggered from not your meddling directly, but when the hole in the fence was detected by the fifteen minute sweep, which triggered the checks of the bombs which you alerted by your fiddling. Coincidently, it was the hole we made to gain entry to the property. You, Number Three, should have been running the program, constantly checking for blips and irregularities which would precede the routine sweep of the electric fences to warn the operatives. Can you tell me why you weren't doing that?"

"I was..."

"You were?" His tone personified the idea of NO MERCY.

"I was...collecting daisy chains outside the shuttle, Number One." Her cheeks were red with shame.

"I see. Not running the program?"

"No."

"Not monitoring the security systems?"

"No, Number One."

"So you did not do one of your assigned duties, Number Three?"

"I did for a few minutes but then it got boring-"

"It. Got. _Boring_?" Nigel's face was livid. Absolutely, Honest To God Livid. "You abandoned your assigned post because it got boring?! Do you have any idea how much danger you put our operatives in, Kuki Sanban? You were monitoring the driveway, which no-one else could see or, at least you were meant to be! He could have driven back at any time, and you wouldn't have noticed because you were too damn busy _picking flowers for stupid adornments_! This is a man who creates and detonates bombs that kill hundreds upon thousands at a time! He could and would have massacred Two, Four and Five if he had caught them inside his house, which he could have because they would have had no prior warning to get the hell out of the house because you weren't smart enough to watch the monitors!"

"I'm-"

"What? You're _sorry?_" Number One sneered, "Sorry wouldn't have cut it if you were being hauled up for negligence of duties whilst in Operation or even on a charge of "Negligence of duties, resulting in the murder of three operatives!" He slammed his hands down again, "This is not the KND anymore, Kuki! Spanking is not the worse that villains can now dish out! He could have quite happily slit the throats of your fellow operatives! A spanking will heal in time, and we have a medi-bay that can cope with the influx of over teeth cleaning. We cannot resurrect the _dead! _We cannot repair that damage and you could have been the cause of three cases of it! It would have been on your shoulders if it had happened!" He sat down again, his hands returning to their previous position of being folded in front of his face. "...Once again however, the fault does not lay _entirely_ on you. Number Two?"

"I failed to perform a complete analysis of the safety features through my own negligence and compounded this by not bring the right tools with me on the actual assignment. Therefore I wasted valuable time and may have tripped part of the security system which resulted in injury of my fellow operative Number Five." Not quite short and sweet but the honesty earned him a lesser glare from Number One and a slightly less abrasive tone of voice.

"I see you've already inventoried your faults, Number Two. Thank you for your honesty as well. And, you should have. But again, the blame does not lie entirely on your shoulders." Nigel turned to glare at the last person in the room. "Number Five?"

"I...I failed to perform as en-mission leader. I did not incite or enforce the practises I should have and as such it resulted in a large amount of damage to property and operatives." Never let it be said that Abby Lincoln was a slow learner; she had seen the lesser hauling over the coals Number Two had gotten for his honesty and had jumped right on that band wagon.

"So you do acknowledge it. And here was I thinking I'd have to drag it out of you. Congratulations Number Five." Number One's voice was like with Hoagie's strip down, one degree above freezing unlike the absolute Zero it had been with Three and Four. "So, I take we have now acknowledged our failings and shortcomings for this mission, am I correct?"

"Yes, Number One."

"There are several things I have to say....I am disappointed. This behaviour for this mission was like first timers. It was that bad. I am ashamed to have admitted it but it's true. We are the highest ranking operatives in the TOTR Command, I should not be dealing with you like this. However..." He stretched out the word, "Since the mission was _technically_ successful, I will not be submitting the requisite forms to Command. I will however be dishing out punishments that you _well deserve for what you did!_"

Number Five saw Four cringe out of the corner of her eye. But she quickly refocused her attention back on One as he stood up. "Number Three? You will be restricted to the Tree House, only leaving to go to school. You will attend your bi-weekly cheerleading practise but you will return straight home at the Tree House. You will draw up a cleaning roster for you, Two and Five to do; which will involve the cleaning of all the main stairways, hallways, landings, and common rooms. You will show it to me at nine o'clock tomorrow morning and it will be enacted for three weeks."

"Yes, Number One."

"Number Two, you will perform system maintenance every day-"

"But Nigel! That takes hours!"

"Then maybe you can take those hours and reflect on what you did not do! You will also be restricted to base outside of school, and your science tutoring sessions. You will perform inventory of the equipment and vehicles and every damn file and document we have until I say to stop. You will take your part in the cleaning roster for all three weeks, or until I am satisfied with you. Am I clear?"

"Yes Number One."

"Number Five, you will be restricted to the Tree House. You will be filing the forms for this assignment, delivering the jewels back to the Lunar Station, and you will then be on Cam Duty-"

"Nothing ever happens on Cam Duty, Nigel!"

"Then maybe you can take the time to reflect on your poor actions during this mission, and then contemplate how you would correct them. You will attend your....'sessions' with the junior members but you will be otherwise restricted back to the school and the Tree House. You will help with the cleaning roster, and you will not EVER disobey me like that again. Am I clear?" Number One's expression didn't brook a "No."

"Yes, Number One." Number Five breathed a sigh of relief as Number One's attention left her, and she leaned back in her seat, her adrenaline pumping. She was glad, because she knew damn well she could have gotten worse. Number Five could have been stripped of a rank, sent out of patrol duty and since it was boiling hot and muggy, it would have been hellishly boring and sweaty work. But now?

Now it was Number Four's turn to face the music and receive punishment; and he knew it.

"Number Four...In light of your _extreme_ negligence in informing others of the bomb, and your...actions in helping cause the explosion, I feel that you should receive a different punishment, since it was your actions that started the sequence of events." Number One placed his hands flat on the desk. "You will go to your room, and you will find every item of electronic entertainment you own in your rooms. Television, X-Box, Playstations, GameBoys, right down mp3s and iPods, along with the games and cartridges. You will disconnect them from their cables and you will _not_ leave the cables in the vault. You will load the devices onto a hovercart and place them downstairs in the Vaults. Your laptop and mobiles will be brought to my office, and you will leave them, along with the cables and your vaults keys, in my office. Only under my supervision will you be allowed access to your laptop. You will not be allowed to use the television in the main room unless under my supervision, and you will not attempt to gain access to anyone else's electronics. Am I clear?"

"Yeah."

"In addition to that, you will spend the next three weeks, after school, being confined to the Tree House. No meeting with your trainees for three weeks. Send them on...I don't know...a three week mission to the Andes. Just not near you. You will clean your room since it is an _absolute pigsty _and you will then be set on cooking duty-"

"Number One! I hate cooking!"

"_And yet_ you are good at it. It is a _shame_ to waste that gift. I think for tonight however, Kuki and Number Two can cook, because you will be using the cookbooks from the kitchen and constructing menus for the next three weeks. I want them on my desk by tomorrow morning, at seven, and you will start with breakfast tomorrow. You will not be going on missions anyway, with your...injuries," Number One's eyes drifted up and down Number Four's body. Indeed, Number Four would not be going anywhere with those injuries. "You will however, start on the Science Project you are behind on, continue with your Languages Assignment which I know is already late, and you will do some more work on your history essay. I have already seen it. It needs improving and as you are confined to the Tree House as off three thirty every school day and all day on weekends for the next three weeks, I think you should have plenty of time to do so."

"Number One!" Number Four looked set to demand a rematch, until One narrowed his eyes at Four and then he went, "–Oh fine..."

"Number Five, dismissed."

"Yes, Number One." Number Five stood up, her dress shedding little bits of burnt fabric as she moved.

"Number Two, you will start on that system maintenance tomorrow morning. Dismissed."

"Yes, Number One." Number Two left the room, and closed the door behind him.

"Number Three, I do not ever expect you to desert your post like that again. Should you do so, you will be facing a disciplinary hearing. I will not tell you again, am I clear Three?"

"Yes, Number One."

"Good. Dismissed, Three."

And finally, it was just Number Four left.

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_ And that's it for this chapter~_

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_**Star Twilight Akazura Hedgehog -** Thanks for reviewing and I love Nigel/Wally too~ It's an adorable pairing but it can also be awesomely hot and smexy! All you could want from a pairing, in my opinion. _

_Please review and I'll catch you later! _


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys!

It's been a while, hasn't it? Still here you go, one new chapter hot off the presses...!

Reason why it's late is because I started my new job and I got buried… Seriously, never work for a privately owned bakery. I got the admin on a Saturday and two days a week in the kitchen~ but it's hot and heavy work!

Please read and review!

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_**Chapter Four**_

_**Of Questions and Queries**_

Nigel looked Four up and down. The blonde looked awful, just terrible. A large field dressing over a large patch of skin covering from almost Lee's armpit over ribs to hips, on his left side, innumerable small cuts and grazes littering the pale skin. A large white bandage was wrapped around his head, covering one eye and slipping under the hair. It was the result of plaster and small bits of grit, though Four had been cleared by Three to return to normal living if he kept the eye under wraps to protect it. One arm should have been in a sling, but Four had taken it off and was merely relying on the pain of the arm to keep himself sharp. He had been just twenty five metres from the bomb blast, and his hiding beneath an antique table had saved his life if not his knee, which had been tightly bound after being examined by Miss Medical, Number Three, thanks to him almost tearing a ligament and fracturing his kneecap.

On the plane home, Lee had been the worst injured member, and Three had used nearly her entire medical kit trying to fix him to a point where he could walk and talk. One intended to have a look himself at the injuries as soon as he had calmed down enough. Lee though, didn't seem particularly ready to have his injuries tended to, and like he normally did, would prefer to stalk off and lick his wounds himself. One had no intention of allowing that to happen. These wounds were serious, and could be potentially dangerous if not look after properly, and, Lee, despite his current foul attitude towards the rest of the world, was not going to become exacerbate those injuries on Nigel's watch. For now, however Nigel was disregarding of Lee's injuries. He might look a complete mess, but One wasn't about to let him off now.

"And then there was one." Nigel leant back in his chair and looked at the boy in front of him. "What did Kuki say about your injuries?"

"She said," Four didn't look up, "that I would be fine in about three weeks to go back to school, but I'd need the time off for my side and my knee because otherwise I'd damage maybe some ligaments and slow the healing process. And then I can go back but not to any Sports. And I need to keep the sling on, for the full three weeks, and no strenuous exercise. And the eye has to stay covered for a week. At least. She's going to call a couple of her weird medi-people up to check on it."

"Right. I will talk to Kuki, and arrange for this medical meeting to occur. You will endure it and you will play nice, or there will be severe consequences. And I mean it. However, moving on. The rest of your punishment. Since you will be off of school, I see no reason why you cannot have a punishment fit to match it. I have clearance to be off of school because I had a mission coming up but it was cancelled. I will be staying off with you. I will draw up a list of tasks for you to do tonight and you may work on them starting tomorrow. I think you can be in charge of the kitchen and making lunches for the others, and completing assignments will be just part of the chores-"

"I hate doin' assignments!"

"Then don't fail at a mission." Number One's tone, though polite, was icy cold and just a little stony. "I think also you will be in charge of filing the mission reports in my office. Since Number Two's work doesn't cover them, you can do that part. And I will just see what else I can add later on."

"Yes, Number One." Lee's expression was petulant, but he held his tongue, and for that Nigel gave him credit where credit was due. He knew just how difficult it was for Wally to not explode at the drop of a hat.

"I also think you can be in charge of doing the shopping for the team, online for this week, and then over the next two weeks you can go out to get it-"

"I'm not a fuckin' house wife, Number One! I don't do fuggin' cookin' and shoppin'!"

"Well, now you do. You brought this on yourself and I should consider yourself damn lucky. You could be facing a disciplinary hearing, or even suspension or maybe even decommissioning for what you did. I think a few weeks of doing some household chores is not exactly a _great and difficult punishment, _considering that!"

"Wha....Oh."

"Do you understand, Four?"

"Y-yeah. I do...." Number Four looked at his feet, and Nigel watched in mild fascination as Lee's left fist clenched and unclenched. The blonde didn't even realise he was doing it.

"I see." Number One considered this, before deciding to cut Four loose and send him on his way to calm him down a bit. "I want you to go and get all your equipment and then place them in the vaults. I want it done in an hour, but you may take a cart and use that. After that you bring the cables and laptop and mobiles to me. We'll go from there."

"Yes, Number One." Four looked like he was a man being sent to the gallows as he left the room, his sling going back around his neck.

Nigel contemplated the boy as he left.

Four was a very simple person on the surface but as you got to know him he became very complicated. On the one hand, most people thought he cared about fighting, winning and not much else. However, One especially knew that Four cared deeply for his friends, would fight until the land's end for them time and time again, without thought of his own safety. He knew that Lee was a very emotional person and that while he might not have been generally that expressive with them, he felt things deeply and often thought that when people made a crack about him they hated him. He was a very inwardly emotional person who never showed what he felt when someone made a joke about him but would often allow the comment to desecrate his self-worth.

Lately, Number Four seemed to be getting worse. He pushed boundaries, spent long hours in his room playing violent video games and pulled less and less of his own weight in relation to reports and daily housework of the Tree House. One knew how hard Wally found reading and writing when the subject didn't interest him, and allowed Wally either extra time to write and submit his report, or allowed him to type a report, rather than handwrite it as was the norm. God knew no-one could read Wally's handwriting except Wally, and he wrote slowly, having to pay great attention to each letter and word. Indeed he often had to draft his reports several times, before they were fit for purpose. One had petitioned for and received permission from the big-wigs to allow Wally to submit reports that had been dictated either to a tape or to a scribe and to submit paperwork with visual aids replacing words such as pictures, diagrams and maps. Now his reports were late, full of spelling and grammar errors, even when typed and printed, with the visual aids just thrown in with sometimes less than a hundred words linking them. Most incident reports or case files had to be a minimum of one thousand words per operative, and Wally just wouldn't change any of them. One often ended up standing over Four, dragging every word of out the boy to type on the computer before it got done.

Lee had been in charge of the laundry, much to his disgust as to having drawn the short straw and putting out the trash by collecting it from outside all the bedrooms, when it had been put out by the occupier of the bedrooms, and emptying every bin in every common room and bagging it up and placing it on the curb. He was also in charge of shredding everything, from junk mail to bills to important paperwork that was no longer needed. However, these days One had to start reminding him to do it on Saturday to get him to take the trash out for Friday or else it never got done and there were piles of paper work and laundry that needed either washing or shredding that Wally just didn't do. He was getting hauled up every week over the piles of laundry that he didn't do, and the stacks of paperwork that just wasn't being shredded and the blond just ignored it. Or he spat out a snappy retort like, "Why don't you do it then, if it's so precious to you, Oh Great and Mighty Leader?!" One had seriously contemplated hitting the other boy, regardless of seniority or fighting skills.

He was rude and obnoxious most of the time, and One was concerned. It had all happened about six months ago, it was literally an overnight change. Before that, Wally had a short temper, and a natural dislike for housework and reports, but had settled down to them well enough, without much fuss or trouble. And then next day, he was horrible. It was like he had a personality transplant. The strange thing was there was no reason for it, medical, personal, or even just having a bad day. You can have a bad day, even a bad week, but no-one has a bad six consecutive months for no reason. And One was getting sick of it. To the back teeth if he was honest. Lee treated the team like crap and they were getting sick of it.

Today was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Number ONE!" A voice came from the direction of his laptop, and Nigel spun his chair from where he was looking out a window, to face the desk and his laptop. Tapping the mouse pad, the screen lightened, and a video link window took up the screen. It was Number Eight-Nine-Seven-Two, a fellow sector commander in England. Her face was a welcome sight but....

"You dyed your hair, Eight-Nine-Seven-Two?"

"Call me Minnie, Nigel. The connection is secure. As far as anyone knows, we're two old friends from school catching up." She smiled, the freckles on her nose bold and bright. "And yes, I did. Do you like it?"

"Never thought of you as a purple-nette but...it suits you." He pulled off his sunglasses and smiled at her. It was nice to see a familiar face who he wasn't currently punishing. Minnie Van Dyke Mercer, commonly known as the Firecracker of England had been one of his closest and best friends since he was thirteen and brand new in the leadership system where many of the team leaders were arrogant pricks who always had a score to settle with you. There were no rumours about love between Minnie and Nigel simply because there was no love of the romantic sort between them. Minnie was Nigel's guiding light in the Leadership system thanks to her eight month head start on him and her inside friends. When Nigel had first started out in TOTR as a leader, he was alone, friendless with numerous missions and no insider friends to help him out and a team to support and guide as well, in a world that was vastly removed from the KND system. Paperwork and legal issues had him by the bollocks and Minnie had just swept him, offering a cup of tea at the same time, off to an office where she walked him through it all. Despite her hold him through seniority in the entry system, (she had been in TOTR eight months longer than he) he was four months older than she but they were still friends. "Never thought I'd see you with purple hair but it works."

"Thank you, Nigel." She patted the short, spiky purple hair a top her head as she smiled at him. Her face soon became more serious though, "Now, that's not what I called to talk about."

"Oh?" Nigel smiled, but his mind wondered...what could his long time friend be calling about? He tried to think ....He wasn't dating anyone, she was but it was the same person for the last six months, he hadn't had any missions with her, nor any requests for missions in the last paper load and he wasn't planning a trip to England as far as he knew. "What did you call me about then?"

"Your last mission." Ah. "Don't worry, everyone else thinks it was just a freak accident and all that shite you spun the big people at the top. I, however, don't think that it's quite true."

"You always could smell bullshit from a report at thirty paces."

"Mate, this was at ten miles and it reeked of it." She leant forward. "What happened?"

"Oh, I don't know..." Nigel dropped his sunglasses on the table and tilted his head back, rubbing his eyes. "I just don't know what to do with them anymore."

"Nigel!"

"Well, not them exactly. Yeah, the mission was fucked up..." He was angry with them yes, but he knew that he was punishing them for a reason and a damn good one. So why did he feel like he did? All crapped out and like he was to blame.

"Tell me, Nigel."

And he did. He told her how the mission had bogged up, how Four had taken a nosedive in attitude and personality and how One was getting seriously peed-off with it all, and how he couldn't seem to find out why or how to stop that. He may have been a commander of one of the world's leading sectors, but he was only human and a teenager at that. He had no reasonable exit sometimes but when there was one, he went for it. He told her everything, everything he could think of, and he felt, all the punishments that had failed, anything he could think of.

When he had finished, she sat back in her chair and looked him dead in the eye. "It seems to me, Nigel, that you have a team that just got a bit cocky on the last mission. But as for Number Four..."

"What about him?"

"Well...he sounds like something happened. Something big."

"I know. I mean it's just way too big for it to have happened over night and he's never ever been this mean before or this awful to other people. He makes me so angry."

"Because he isn't nice or he doesn't do what you tell him?"

"He does nothing I tell him without a fight or at the very least, a snide comment. Even if it's just taking out the trash..."

"Trash?" Minnie snickered. "You're British-English aren't you? Speak Queen's English man...."

"Yeah, whatever, I'm British living in America."

"So act like a British leader. Give him a British punishment. One he won't forget."

"What?"

"...I'm sure you grew up with it, Nigel..." Minnie snickered. "Remember being put over your dad's knee..."

"...WHAT?"

"Well, did it work?"

"Yes...but..."

"Did. It. Work?"

"Yes."

"So..." Minnie snickered. "You've got the stuff Nigel, I know you have. Just be firm, clear and no-nonsense about it."

"You really think I could do it?"

"I know you can. Just put it right on him and make it clear that either he can do the damn chores, or he can take the punishment and then do the chores. Simple as."

"Hmm..." Nigel considered this. "Well, his time is nearly up anyway, so..."

"Oh stop dallying Nigel and either do it or live with his attitude. Or I'll do it for you?"

"Shut up, Minnie. I'll do it. Just...Argh, stop being nosy and start being sensible." He leant back in his seat. "Are you being serious, Minnie? Because I will hurt you if you're not..."

"I am being serious, Nigel." Minnie smiled at him. "He sounds like something serious happened but if it has gone on for _six months _either he needs an attitude adjustment, or you need to find out what's going on with him. I've never met Four but I have known you for years, Nigel. I know you don't think that you can do it, but you can. He might not seem like such a problem now...But what happens in a month? A year? Ten years?"

"I know. The attitude...We've been taught how to look for it. The people at the top have drilled it into us – the symptoms of..."

"....Of drug or alcohol abuse. He might hurt himself or others, if he keeps doing this."

"It's just..."

"Irrational anger and paranoia. Shaking extremities. Insistence of wearing long sleeves and trousers regardless of weather. Sudden, unexplainable insomnia, or sleep patterns, like through the day and being awake all night for no reason. Violent episodes towards people they would usually never even shout at. Denial of anything to do with them. Suddenly develops a shy, sneaky persona when it comes to things like their room or personal space. Doesn't take any interest in doing previously well enjoyed activates. Develops disinterest in doing anything outside their immediate needs. Develops irrational anger or fear reactions when finding people in their homes or rooms. Over-expresses or fakes interest in activates in an attempt to divert attention. Is frequently uncoordinated and often has memory problems or doesn't remember key events. Is unable to recall even basic instructions or complete them." She sighed, as she listed the signs that Nigel knew all too well....because he had seen them in Number Four. "He fits them all, doesn't he? I could go on forever, Nigel, but you know them as well as I do. He has access to drugs and alcohol, doesn't he?"

"Drugs...He could get them from the medical kits in the jets, or from Kuki's med area. There's morphine and novocaine, and barbiturates and some others. Or he could get them from school – I know that there are a few bad kids that make deals selling drugs – heroin, cocaine, weed... He could get the alcohol from those people as well...or he could go to anyone of the bad bars around here, that don't ask for ID, just for money..."

"You live in San Fran. Nigel. There are enough ghettos and places for him to get hold of many drugs and batches of alcohol. You need to know what's going on with your team. You need to know if he's being a bastard, in which case you should consider it punishment. But you also need to consider the possibility that he's got in over his head. He might need the pain and whatever...you know what I mean...to make him confess or give in or tell all..."

"I know. I'm frightened in a way though, Minnie. I'm scared what I might find out, because I know Lee's not easy and if he could get mixed up in the bad crowd then...what chance do we have...?"

"We have the same chance that we always had. We're not weak, Nigel. And if he succumbed to drugs or alcohol, then there is always the chance for him to get clean. He will, if he can. I don't think you'll let him go. You love him too much."

"Not now, Minnie." Nigel waved a hand across his neck and that ended that conversation. "I'll do... it... in my room. I shouldn't think either of us will want to be disturbed, and if this is serious like that...Well...I hope it isn't."

"Nigel?"

"Yes, Minnie?"

"Call me tonight. Please. If it is something bad, then maybe I can help or whatever. Just please call me." Minnie looked at him, beseechingly. "Please, make sure you don't get too angry with him either."

"I won't, Minnie. I'm too much of a control freak to do that." Nigel smirked faintly. "Okay, over and out, Number Eight-Nine-Seven-Two."

"Roger that, Number One. Number Eight-Nine-Seven-Two out."

"Number One...Out..." Nigel closed the laptop as the connection halted and the video screen closed.

It was not an easy option. He could choose to ignore the suggestion but it...might work. Nothing else had done so, it seemed, and right now...If Four was doing drugs or alcohol, it was imperative that One found out and stopped it. As soon as possible.

Because if he didn't...well, needless to say, it could be BAD.

Very bad.

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Stupid MSword. It keeps screwing up my nice new page dividers....

Here's some review replies for ya, so please enjoy!

**Velvet Black Rose** – Sorry, there was your chapter~ and I hope you enjoyed it! I will try to be quicker but you know the feeling – life just… hurries on without you noticing…

**sessylover4eva** – Here's more for ya! Thanks for reviewing!

**Andrew Secrets** - …I think I'll take it as a compliment! Thanks for reviewing!

**CrystalSlashLover **– Updated. UP THERE! Love ya, and thanks for reviewing!

**nameuscool **– good to know that you like it! Thanks for reviewing as well!

**cridget101** – I return! Freakishly awesome is the best kind of awesome! And It's good to know that you like my characters and can see them as I intended. I will be carrying on and you're super duper too for reviewing! Thank you for your support!

**ActionGal07** – Hot and heavy comes later – I'm no good at PWPs… Wonder why~ Glad to see a potential convert in the ranks!

**Michael01** – Thanks for reviewing, and good to know that you like it!

**shinigami kitten tvhg** – Ah, don't die on me, precious reviewer! LIVE! READ THE CHAPTER! BREATHE! HAVE LIFE! And thank you for your support, and there's your chapter up there!

**Lyre-19** – Well, to be honest, I figure in this more adult and responsible world, Nigel would let them have it harsh – you'll see it a little better explain in the next chapter, which I will upload soon and then it'll all make a little more sense. But I mean, going from ' no damage, no sign you were even _there_' to 'house = big hole in the ground'… I'd be pretty pissed off too. Thereis so little Nigel/Wally out there, I noticed that… Please bear I haven't seen the cartoon in YEARS so this is really from what I remember and just…me playing catch up and make it up as I go along…XD Thrillingly intense? High praise indeed! Thank you so much for your review!

**Sinyeta** – Hold onto ya horses for a bit, it's still got a while to go yet!

**PurpleHatter** – I'm keeping writing as I can! Thank you for your review and kind words!

**xxBloodAngelxx** – Aww, don't be sad – I have fourteen and that's more than enough for me when I haven't been updating nearly as often as I should have been!

**Urban** **Magpie** – Awesome seems to be popular word to describe this story! And yeah, Number one really rattled their cages this one. Four will be explained up above and in the next chapter – see you then!

_Ah well, please review!_

**_SSS~  
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	4. Please Read

A message for my readers. Please read this before reviewing "where is the next chapter?"

There won't be any updates on for a while. I'm just going to come out and say it, since I can't stop crying long enough to think of a nice way to put it.

My father died this morning.

And I don't think I can think of updating anything until after the funeral, and that's a while away - there's a coroner's inquest and lots of things to work out, and even then, it might take me awhile to get enough inspiration back.

My father wasn't a great man, and I won't be the first in line to say that he was perfect because he wasn't. But he was my father. And for some reason, I feel really guilty because he's dead. And I don't know why.

Anyway. Sorry. Still crying.

I thank you for all your support, and your kind words that you've given me over my time here, and I am truely grateful.

SnowStormSkies out.


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